Eternal Misery
by TyTyRichards
Summary: Harry Potter has fallen from grace, his past constantly haunting him, and his thoughts killing him internally. How does he resolve his problems? Just have to see. Harry/Hermione! Deals with drug abuse problems, alcohol problems, and thoughts of suicide. Oneshot. Might turn into more if well recieved.


_Thump, thump, thump!_

Harry set the knife down on the table, where a pile of pink pills used to remain, and stared down at the pink pile of powder, his eyes dead and blank as he leaned back in his chair, reaching over to the desk beside him, and grabbing the tall bottle of brown liquid, and taking a long swig. The alcohol burned his throat, causing him to shiver as he stared at the roof, the feelings of sadness slowly being replaced by the comfortable and warm buzz gently start effecting him. As Harry sat there, he thought back to his life, as he often had nowadays.

He didn't have much to distract him anymore. He had never been one to make many friends, even during his Hogwarts days, and the ones he did have were too busy living their own lives. Ron had ended up taking up a career in Quidditch, despite being a slightly subpar player, he had still gotten picked up as a Keeper for a small town team. Hermione…. Harry didn't dare think about Hermione anymore. He knew that he would eventually, as the thoughts of the brown-haired girl had always tortured him over the years, particularly after the events of the war.

He let out an audible sigh as he leaned forward, and stared down at the floor, before his eyes slowly moved towards the pale pink powder. Oxycodone, as it was known as, was an incredible thing to Harry. He had discovered it soon after the war, and used it partially to help forget the horrible things that he had seen during the war. The thoughts of the people he couldn't save constantly were in the back of his head. The people that were not alive because he didn't save them haunted Harry in his dreams and the voices of the lost always rang out in his head. The small pink pills were what Harry was to the Wizarding World, and he knew that it might be the death of him.

He pulled out his old leather wallet, worn and faded from years of use, and yanked out a small bank note, rolling it as tightly as he could get it. When he was satisfied with the results of his rolling, he slowly leaned his body forward, placing the note at the far end of the thick pink dust, and inhaling through his nose as deeply as he could, cleaning the table of the Oxycodone quickly, and he leaned back in the black leather chair, and shook his head as the familiar burn ignited in his nose.

'" _I l… love you Harry" The brown haired girl said softly, but to Harry, the words echoed throughout the small tent, and made him feel amazing, like he had just won the lottery.'_

Harry slowly looked down at the bottle, the comfortable and soft high slowly setting in, as though pressure was building in his mind, but not in a bad way. He smiled gently as he remembered those four words she had said to him. They had been sitting in the tent during the hunt for the Horcruxes, and Ron had just abandoned the duo a few hours before. Hermione had broken down, and Harry was doing her best to comfort her, and the words had seemed to had slipped from Hermione's lips.

 _'" What?" Harry said quietly, his heart beating quickly and rapidly as he stared down at Hermione, the words slowly starting to register in his mind, "I… I love you Harry". She whispered softly, staring up at him, her thumb rubbing away tears as she sniffled quietly, and bit on her lip as she waited Harry's own words. '_

Soon after that, they kissed. Then made out. Then had sex. It was one of the defining moments of Harry's life, a moment where he felt like they were… okay. That everything would be okay in the world. He wasn't worried about having to kill Voldemort. He wasn't worried about Ron leaving. He wasn't worried about the Horcruxes. He felt safe and loved for the first time in his life, but as it seemed to go with Harry, he was destined to forever be miserable.

Harry unscrewed the cap, and took a massive gulp of the whiskey, the burn momentarily drowning out the pain in his nose, but soon both of them faded away, his body feeling light and floaty, his mind sluggish and blurred. He sighed softly as he decided to stand up, and pushed himself out of the chair shakily, with balance like a single-winged airplane. He extended his arms shakily, the room blurry and fading in and out, and he slowly made his way to the mantle, and leaned heavily against the wall, grabbing a picture of himself and Hermione in the tent, soon after they had started their deepened relationship.

 _' Harry stood in the wreckage of what was once the Great Hall of Hogwarts, staring down the Dark Lord of the Wizarding World, slowly circling as the battle raged on in the distance, Harry's body tense and ready to fight, "Avada Kedavara!" They both shouted at the same time over the roar of the battle, and the green spells shot from their wands. The spells reflected off each other and shot off into the crowd. Voldemort's spell had hit Malfoy in the lower left leg, whilst Malfoy was fighting off Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. Harry watched in slow motion as his own spell sailed into the crowd, impacting none other than Hermione Granger square in the back, killing her instantly as she fell to the ground, a surprised Bellatrix stared down at the corpse'_

Years passed by that day, and he never moved on it. Had never started his career in Auroring. Never went back and finished his 7th year at Hogwarts. He had fallen from grace, accepting Oxycodone in place of everything else, and he didn't care about anything anymore. Harry constantly thought about Hermione and how he had killed her. Nobody said they blamed him, but he didn't care. He blamed himself for being so reckless. The misery that Harry had would affect him for the rest of his life.

He had thought of suicide many days, but knew that he couldn't do it. He couldn't end his life. He felt like he deserved this misery, and that it was forever to be his hell, until the final moment of his natural life. He stared down at the picture, shaking gently in his hand as he focused as hard as he could on the photo, before it slipped through his fingers, and he dropped the photo on the ground, and another loud ' _thump'_ sounded out as Harry fell to the ground, unconscious from the combination of drugs and alcohol


End file.
